


Improbable whimsy

by down



Category: Magic Knight Rayearth
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Romance Novel, Community: trope_bingo, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 15:05:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16431728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/down/pseuds/down
Summary: "I guess you just write serious books, then?""No - um." He looked like he was doing his best not to laugh, glancing at his screen. "...No, not really.""Oh, do you write thrillers? Mysteries? You spend your time fretting over who did it?""No," he said, with a definite laugh, and  - his cheeks had gone pink.





	Improbable whimsy

**Author's Note:**

> For trope-bingo: AU - romance novel. 
> 
> As far as I know there's no actual romance writer with the pen name I picked... 
> 
> My darling wife typed this one in, too~ <3

Umi took the job at the little hole-in-the-wall coffee shop because it was on the edge of campus, so walking distance, and it fit around her classes better than anything else on offer. Her parents had put her through her first degree without her needing a job - which made her eternally lucky, she knew - but grad school was her choice, and financing it without bankrupting herself was her responsibility. So alongside the weekend gig as a fencing instructor, she spent a couple of afternoons a week selling terrible coffee to students so desperate and broke they didn't care Eterna's coffee was awful.

She hadn't planned on getting to know the customers, but it turned out that happened anyway when the same people kept turning up. A few stood out, chief among them the man who sat at the back of the tiny shop with his laptop every day, glaring at his screen as he poked at the keyboard and muttered dire things about the tea he _insisted_ on ordering as Umi sat it down on the table, she snapped and glared back at him. "Look, if you want tea - real, decent tea - you shouldn't come order it in a shithole coffee shop! It's not going to get any better for complaining, why don't you just go somewhere else?"

He glared at the mug, then at her, the the mug again. "...Because yours is the only source of caffeine in a three mile radius too cheap to provide wifi!" he snapped back. "I've got deadlines to meet, okay? I can't deal with the distractions!"

Sighing, Umi shook her head at him. "They make software which locks you out of the internet, you know. For a set time. Or you could just unplug your router."

"Sadly," he said, voice very dry, "I remain aware at all times of how to switch the internet back on. My attention span always collapses before my intentions have come to pass - I'm too good at arguing with myself. I always give myself an exception, just this one time… The actual inability to get online is the only reliable thing I've found to help with the procrastination, because I can't make myself justify walking a mile back home for a five minute break. It _almost_ makes up for the quality of the tea."

"What are you writing for these deadlines? Articles?" Umi hooked another chair up to the table and flopped down. She had her own work spread out behind the counter - the bonus of being a fairly quiet coffee shop apart from the rush between class periods was being able to get on with her own work. "Or are you grading papers, or - ooh, coding?"

Looking at her, he raised an eyebrow. "I tell you I don't deal well with distractions, so you decide to be one? Don't you have anyone else to make barely-potable drinks for?"

Umi waved a hand about the room, empty but for the two of them. "Nope," she told him, cheerfully. His face was the picture of irritation, it was glorious. "I'm marking undergrad lab work, and it's _dire_. I need a break for a minute to restore my belief people with common sense exist."

He snorted, lips twitching up, and shook his head. "I'm a writer," he told her, waving a hand at the laptop wedged on the tiny table. "The only inadequacies I'm dealing with are my own, sorry, I can't share any tales of student follies. My deadline is when my publisher expects a reasonable draft of this book."

"Huh. I could have sworn you were a professor - you've got the whole…" she waved a hand at him, and the somewhat eclectic mess of his clothing. "Serious look?"

"You mean, I cloth myself like a weirdo who doesn't have to deal with an office dress code?" He grinned, suddenly, the first time she'd ever seen him look so carefree, and his entire face transformed. "Well, you did get that bit right."

Umi peered at the laptop, but he had turned it so far she'd have to lean right into his space to see the screen - which was a pretty good indicator she should behave herself and not do that, but she was intrigued now. "I guess you just write serious books, then?"

"No - um." He looked like he was doing his best not to laugh, glancing at his screen. "...No, not really."

"Oh, do you write thrillers? Mysteries? You spend your time fretting over who did it?"

"No," he said, with a definite laugh, and - his cheeks had gone pink. "But aren't you a little young to be marking papers yourself? You can't be a professor yet, no matter how determined you are."

"Graduate student. I pick up some of the undergrad stuff for the people teaching me so they've got time to look at my work instead."

He asked her about her subject, then, and the people she worked with, and it wasn't until the next flurry of bleary-eyed students started pouring in that Umi realised he'd avoided telling her what he did write. The read of her shift livened up too much to go bother him again - she didn't get any extra work done, either - and he was gone before she'd changed out of her apron and found her jacket.

Very belatedly, she realised she hadn't actually asked his name either. His cards were for 'C. Cephiro', but the internet came up with no books under that name.

oOo

The next time she was him, she had a more important question to ask, anyway as he dropped his money on the counter - "What kind of tea do you like? She asked, as he turned to the back of the room so she could serve the three people who'd rushed in after him.

"...What?"

"What kind of tea? English breakfast, earl grey -"

"Assam?" he said, blinking in confusion. "Well - breakfast is fine, any tea which has been near a real tea leaf is - why?"

"Go sit down!" she told him, and he wandered to his usual seat with a look of great confusion as she rummaged below the counter, reaching beyond the jar of horribly cheap tea bags for the little box she'd persuaded her boss to let her order, feeling pleased she'd at least guessed this right - something malty and strong, she'd bet.

She'd got rid of the queue by the time it was decently brewed, and she brought the mug out to him with a flourish. "Sorry I can't give you the teapot, we've only got one and you're not the only weirdo who comes to a coffee shop for the tea," she said waiting with a grin as he eyed first her, then the mug, before lifting it for a taste without touching the sugar or milk.

His bewildered expression was, she decided, the best of them all. "That's - what did you do?" he asked, staring at the mug. "That's actual tea."

"Persuaded my boss your persistence and uh, loyal support deserved some return? Plus it's nice to not have to bring my own tea bags for my break."

He took another sip, face almost reverent. "Thank you."

"It's not that great," Umi muttered, feeling her cheeks heat and unable to stop it. She flopped down into the chair opposite him - "It's still teabags in a crap steel teapot and a coffee mug."

"But it's no longer and offence to all my senses. So thank you, Ms Ryuuzaki."

Umi glanced down at her name tag which somewhat defiantly labelled her as 'U. Ryuuzaki', and grinned. She held her hand out across the table. "It's Umi."

"...Clef," he told her, and shook her hand.

oOo

She didn't stop poking him about what he was writing, after that, but it was more for the fun of his pulling faces at her than anything else.

...Okay, no, she was horribly curious as well - his full name hadn't helped, and he wouldn't tell her his pen name - but she was fairly certain he would tell her some day, and in the meantime it was a teasing game.

Until the week she came in and found him already established at his table, which was almost entirely lost under a draft of paper. He looked both harried and distracted, tapping a pen on the paper in a rapid staccato, and when she called over ask if he wanted another drink. All he said was "Please", not looking up.

She brougth it across, and had to wait for him to shift the papers to make space for the mug. "Sorry," he muttered. "Page proofs. I hate this bit. If Shakespeare invented his own spelling why can't I - Uh, Umi?"

Umi jolted, still clutching the mug, and stared between him and the pages - which declared 'The Earl's Mistress - Chrissy McLeod' across the top of every page.

"Chrissy?" she managed, eventually, voice half-strangled by surprise.

"More romance readers will give a writer with a feminine name a chance than something masculine. So the publishers suggested a pen name. It works?"

Umi dropped into a free seat, a little of the tea spilling out over the side of the mug to sting her fingers. Clef grabbed some tissues from his bag and took the tea from her, cleaning up the mug and her hand, inspecting her fingers. "It don't think you've scalded yourself - you should probably stick your hand under the cold tap for a few minutes to be safe, though."

Still staring at him, Umi didn't move. "You write romance novels?"

Clef was starting to grin at her confusion. "I did tell you it wasn't 'serious' the way you kept expecting. There's nothing wrong with writing romances, you realise?"

"I know! I mean, my mother reads hundreds, she says they keep her brain from turning into mush running a multinational company, I just -" slowly, she started to laugh. "Really. No murders, not politics? Just romance?"

"I've written a few romantic suspense books, but mostly I stick to historicals. They're _fun_ , and I like throwing in the occasional moment of historical accuracy to confuse people." He looked steadily, holding her hand up. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'll go cool my fingers off," she told him, grinning. "I just - romances!"

Rolling his eyes, Clef stood and actually dragged Umi back to the counter and glared until she stuck her reddening fingers under cold water, and continued glaring at her until she stayed put before returning to his edits.

They didn't talk much more for the rest of the day, Clef busily working and Umi filled with mirth each time she thought about it - him sat there looking grim-faced like he was contemplating the end of the universe, writing love scenes! But when she got home, armed with a pen name, her searching was a lot more successful - plus, it turned out her library had a handful of his books in digital format. She downloaded a couple, and waited eagerly for the weekend, when she could have time to look at them.

oOo

Monday afternoon, she was leaning on the counter drinking sugar-saturated tea she'd steeped for nearly ten minutes, still feeling like she was about to collapse into a coma on the till when he came in smiling and carrying nothing but his laptop case.

"I finished!" he told her, beaming. "Done! Sent in! I - are you ill?"

"You stole my entire weekend!" Umi wailed, not caring that the three kids sat by the door jumped and turned to stare at her. "I couldn't stop reading! Why have you written so many books? Why are they so addictive?"

"Ah-" Clef started, eyes wide, taking a half step back from the counter.

"I slept three hours last night!" Umi glared at him, and made a grabby hand. "You owe me! I want to read the one you just finished!"

Slowly, Clef's smile was coming back, twitching towards a laugh. "I don't have a copy I can lend you with me. I've got a set of proofs at home, but -"

"I'm coming to yours for dinner tonight, Umi told him. "You can cook for me. I've spent enough money on your books this weekend you can afford it, trust me. And I'm reading it."

"I… okay?"

"You have to, because - wait, okay?"

"Yes?" Clef blinked. "I didn't have any plans tonight, you would be - welcome?"

"Oh." Umi blinked back at him, slowly realising that the kids were giggling at them in the corner, and she'd just invited herself round to Clef's house. "I - right. Um, tea?"

"Please," Clef said, and shot off to his usual seat.

This time, he waited for her at the end of her shift, and they walked to his apartment via a supermarket for food, amiably arguing about what they should eat. Then his place was full of books and plants and his enormous fluffy tabby cat, who demanded Umi's attention the whole time Clef was cooking - it had been ages since she'd been home to play with her family's cat - and then dinner was good, the conversation was fun, if teasing. By the time he pulled the folder of proofs off his shelf ("I send them back digitally, I just can't edit on a screen" he explained,) Umi was almost lightheaded wit the need to go to sleep. But she didn't want to - she didn't, she realised slowly, want to leave.

Clef looked at her, hesitating, then seemed to shake himself a little. "It you want, you could borrow then, and maybe… you could come to dinner again on Friday, and bring them back?"

"...Are you asking me on a date?" Umi's voice was little too quiet, uncertain - but Clef shrugged, and glanced over at the table of empty plates.

"Was _this_ a date?" he countered, and Umi - didn't know quite how to answer him.

Griffin - the cat - broke the moment by thumping his head against her leg and meowing plaintively, making them both flinch, and then start to laugh.

"Well, your cat and I had a good time this evening," Umi told him. "If this book is any good, I'll dress up next time, and you'll _know_ it's a date."

Snorting, he knelt to pick Griffin up before he could thump into Umi again. "I'll look forward to finding out," he said, and then found his landline so she could all a taxi home.

He saw her down the stairs when the taxi arrived, and Umi clutched the folder to her chest, glancing up at him as he opened the door for her. "I hope it meets some of your expectations, at least," he said with a glance at her prize.

On impulse, she darted in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, just shy of his lips, then shot out to the taxi. "In case this _was_ a date!" she called back, and he was standing there as the taxi pulled away, with an expression she was going to have to rank even higher than his best bewildered expressions of the past - because this one was hopeful, too.

As was Umi. She sat back in the taxi, let her eyes close, and started planning what she was going to wear on Friday to leave him in absolutely no doubt of her intentions.

...And if they were dating, she'd get to read his books without waiting for them to be published. Right?


End file.
